The Secret Chest
by Jayne Dough
Summary: Hermione discovers a secret chest on a rogue visit. Curiosity is so very uncharacteristic of her, but something about the chest is compelling her to look inside, and soon it becomes clear why.
1. The Discovery

This was in no way inspired by the shoebox project, but their work is amazing, and I hope if either of them happen upon this, they'll like it. (The similarities will start taking shape in chapter 2, but I assure you I hadn't even read TSBP before starting this) Anyway R&R Thanks. Naomi x x x ------------------------------------------

Nothing was calm. Ever, anymore at least. It was too soon to be thinking about anything, but she was thinking about him. Not, Viktor as everyone was suspecting, but she sat in her room for hours thinking about him. Frail and alone in the hospital wing. After the spiral of thoughts grasped her so tightly she couldn't lay still anymore, and she decided to take action.

She sat up and surveyed the dorm, everyone was fast asleep, probably from the drama she suspected. Getting up softly she crept down the stairs, avoiding the spots in memory that dictated to her where the loose boards, and creaky steps were. She looked at the common room a while, the fire had burned out, and there was only the cold, pale blue, light of the moon shining through the windows. She crossed it carefully, feeling like a tresspasser in her own home, and started for the boys dormitory.

She looked up at it's imposing wooden frame, and checked the paintings, as she thought, they were all asleep too, so she quietly pressed her weight against the wooden door, her frail, feminine body making it open just enough for her to slip through. She padded gently to Harry's empty bed and opened the chest at the end of it, pulling out his father's invisibility cloak and slipping it gently round herself.

This was against the rules and she knew it, Voldemort could strike at any time, there would be staff patrolling the corridors, all of this she knew, but also had to see him. The journey was cold, and she wished she'd worn more than just her pyjamas, the feeling of her feet on the cold stone made her shiver with every step, as she neared the hospital wing. Eventually making it there she pushed the door, as she suspected Harry was awake, and also, the only one in the wing.

"Hello?" Harry called out into the darkness adjusting his glasses.

"It's me!" Hermione whispered as she jogged lightly towards his bed, he smiled as he heard her bare feet slapping the stone. She slipped the cloak over her head so he finally saw her. Her hair was scraped back and some strands fell awkwardly over her eyes. She smiled at him and sat on the bed next to him. He laughed as she held the cloak around her for warmth and all he could see was her head.

"Hermione, you really shouldn't be down here" he said, with a look of caution in his eyes.

"I know, but I had to see you" she smiled; "You've been here so long, with no visitors!"

"It's not been so bad, I caught up with some reading, but it has been a bit lonely"

"I can't believe no one has even tried to visit you"

"Well, Ron tried, but failed miserably, Fred and George had some kind of fake trick, as you can guess, it didn't get passed Madame Pomfrey" Hermione giggled with him. He took his glasses off and looked at Hermione, she looked deep into his green eyes, and something about the way even though he couldn't see, she felt like he was seeing her rather clearly. His eyes met her's with precision, as he smiled and whispered;

"Thank you"

"For what?" she looked quizicallly at him.

"For coming here, when I needed some company most" He paused. "It still hasn't sunk in properly" She nodded in understanding, and looked at him directly.

"It's what I'm here for, I don't understand things yet either, there was a…" She trailed off, sighed hesitantly, swallowed hard and continued; "a, memorial for Cedric"

"Did you go?" he said rather bluntly.

"I watched from the back, I felt like I had no place there, it still wasn't clear what happened, and to be honest I felt guilty."

"Why guilty?" he interrogated her further.

"I'm glad It wasn't you" she said, and sighed. Harry looked a bit shocked, but continued.

"It should have been me, we, we decided to take the cup together"

"Nobility has never got anyone into trouble before I'm pretty sure" He smiled softly, and placed his hand upon the bedside table. She outreached her own instinctively and played with his palm, with her thinner, more effiminate fingers. He smiled and closed his eyes; Hermione shivered.

"Get in, you're cold" he said, pulling back the blanket and gestured for her to get in, she hesitantly agreed and got in facing away him.

"You're so warm!" she laughed. He layed an arm round her, instinctively as if he were just making himself comfortable. They didn't know what was to lie ahead, as it was the last day of term tomorrow, they were both fairly happy in the moment though. After a long period of time, Hermione opened her eyes, to see the sky a lighter shade of indigo. The moon still full, but it was now almost four AM.

"Harry I have to go"

"But Herm, there was something I really needed to talk to you about"

"It'll have to wait" she said scrambling out of his bed and putting the invisibility cloak back on that had slipped off during the past hour. "Incase I don't see you" she grabbed the back of his neck, rough with haste and smashed his lips into hers, in a quick kiss, almost painful Harry noted, as their jaws mismatched. "Love you, bye" she called. Pulling the hood of the cloak back up and running away. Harry lay back on the bed feeling slightly flummoxed, at the premature friendly leaving gesture, but all the more comforted by it as he lay back in his bed, dropping his arm around nothing.

Hermione was running fast now, her breath a tiny hurricane, she turned corners, took short cuts, he mind a blur until suddenly. Slam. Her face connected with the floor with such force she heard her nose make an unpleasant crunching noise, her ankle also in considerable pain, she looked around. Blood poured from her nose as she looked at what had caused her to fall. A Loose floor board. She pinched her nose and rested a while, and after the bleeding stopped, looked at it.

The board was different from the others, a slightly different colour, a lot larger, partially hidden by a rug…it just looked, odd. She saw something underneath, and decided to prize open and look under. There was a chest, small, probably about the width of her shoulders, and quite deep. She looked at it closely, and pulled it out from underneath. Opening it she saw, a diary, with a small lock, and piles of parchment. She quickly closed it, becoming aware of the time, picked it up with ease and limped back to her dormitory.

She didn't know where to put the chest, and lay it softly on the bed as not to disturb the other students, and opened her own chest at the foot of the bed. she moved some things around before deciding she could fit the chest in if she tried, she was right as usual and it nestled in perfectly. She closed the chest and sat atop it.

Now she had to put her brain to use thinking of a Good excuse as to why she'd just gone ten rounds with a troll. She waited until students were starting to stir, when it came to her. Dropping the chest at the foot of her bed with a loud thud, she threw herself to the floor with a small faux scream. She heard mixed murmurs from the girls, until one said.

"Hermione are you alright?"

"Oh I'm fine, I just tripped over my chest" they all smiled, "Your nose looks like it hurts"

"It's fine. I'll go see Madam Pomfrey, before we get the train" she smiled, as the girls assembled themselves and started to get ready. Hermione sat in a blur while they hurried around with their routines. Perfectly still. Why had she been so keen to take the chest? What was in it? Why did she want to sit with it for hours and look at it's contents? Was it the way the tiny shaft of moonlight lit the floorboard so perfectly? She couldn't answer any of the questions, but she decided to wait until she got home, to look at it. She remarked to herself how very out of character it was for her to just take something from Hogwarts grounds, take something so inexplicably, and to be so, for lack of a better word, curious.

As she predicted she didn't see Harry on his own before she left, Ron was always there in some way or another, either in presence or in the guilt of her mind. He was fine as again predicted, and she kept silent about the chest, seemingly by force. The time came when she was alone with the chest, infront of her, while she sat cross legged, imposing as she stared deeply at it.


	2. Drabbles

Cross legged infront of the overbearing chest, she seemed to find solace in staring at it; happier to guess at its contents than peer inside. She toyed with her bare feet and later scraped back her hair, later, staring at the chest all the while.

She took a final breath and flipped open the metal catches on the lock, and with a satisfying click, they happily obeyed. The diary lay on top, a moleskine looking, battered old book, with a tiny silver padlock attached, holding the secrets with such subtlety and delicacy. Smiling gently at the diary she placed it next to her; deeming it too sensitive and personal for her to deal with as yet, at least until she did further investigation into the chest, and possibly ID'ed an owner.

She scraped up the bundles of parchment and other small books, and put them in a pile to her left. A polaroid was wedged in the bottom of the chest, caught loosely on a hangnail, she tugged at it gently until it waggled loose. It was a picture of Hogwarts lake some time ago, a bewitched picture, showing the wake gently lap at the shore, and some small birds, barely dots in the picture, rose and fell with the breeze. Underneath, some feminine writing inscirbed "My favorite place – 78". She span it round in her fingers, enjoying the feeling of the weighted paper between her index, and middle fingers. On the back she noticed "L.E" but ignored it.

She picked the first scrap of paper up, a small note, looking like a reject of a diary, written too sparingly, too hastily, to be included properly in human memory. Hermione analysed it, all that remained were burned and tatty edges, and some faded graphite. She read:

"_His eyes, I could get lost in them, out of all the things I've seen since I discovered magic in my first year, his eyes are the most magical of all. Has he even seen my eyes? I doubt it, I'm unfairly typecast as his "best friend" while he runs about being Mr Popularity." _

Sparing for a diary entry, she thought. Yet she too had slips of paper she'd written small observations on, or pointless poetry and stories anchored loosely in fact, giving way to the tide of fantasy. Drabbles she called them, like they were entirely independent of her mind, almost a physical release, like tears or vomit. An involuntary, inappropriate and unreasonable action, which was very rare with Hermione. Undoubtedly she had the intelligence to articulate herself correctly at the proper moments, the intellect and knowledge to project her feelings adequately on paper, or in conversation if given some thought. The Drabbles were different, a subconscious way for her brain to relax, like when the rest of the girls went home for christmas, and Hermione secretly rejoiced in being able to sleep in nothing but her underwear.

A slam at the window disrupted her from her thoughts, a familiar white owl was flapping at the window. She opened as if obeying the animals command, as Hedwig happily dropped a small parcel onto her lap and waited patiently to see if she would reply.

A small letter off Harry, a stack of photographs, and a leaf he had pressed from the Hogwarts grounds.

"_Hi Hermione, _

_I know this is a little strange to be asking, but I wondered if I could stay for a few days before we went to The Burrow? I'm hating it here yet again, and though nothing ever beats Hogwarts, your company comes close. Reply ASAP and I'll have Uncle Vernon take me over, he'd do anything to have me out of his sight. Until then, this leaf is a little reminder of Hogwarts and how everything feels safer there. I hope it keeps you safe, I think it must have some kind of power because it's survived this long squashed in the back of my potions book!_

_Harry x"_

She grinned and scrawled a "Thanks, Come round tomorrow", with a kiss at the bottom, in the form of a minute X; and turned her attentions back to the chest, which seemed to be slowly consuming her time.

Looking at another bundle of parchment, she smiles as there are sketches littering the pages. She smiles as they remind her of her own careless sketches. Close enough to resemble the actual figure, or object, but scruffy and imperfect, the kind of sketches people keep secret, so as not to get any unexpected praise or criticism. There was one of a boy on a broom, he looked about her age, but the artist hadn't been brave enough to venture into drawing the features, and covered his face with unruly black hair. There were a few more of the same boy, and on the back of one was written: _"I can draw him from memory now"_ . Hermione smiled at the romance of plotting a map of someone's face, someone's body and being able to memorise every line, fold and crease to recall in visual form whenever you felt like it.

Another note flew through her window from Harry. "See you tomorrow" it said in an untidy scrawl she was familiar with. She set it down on her desk, tripping over a pile of papers on the way back to her seating spot. She ignored it and sat back down anyway. A piece of paper stuck uncomfortably to her clammy foot. She peeled it off, "See you tomorrow" it said, the same writing but different coloured ink, and different paper, and just…different. She picked up the original and pondered what was going on. She sat down and rummaged through the papers more, and another picture fell out.

A picture of Harry, only it can't have been, the boy in the picture looked older, and he didn't have the scar. She flipped it over, finding "James" and a small love heart scrawled next to it, making sure she did not come to any conclusions, she scanned the rest of the papers quickly; it became coherant suddenly, that this wasn't just any chest. This chest belonged to Lily Evans. This chest belonged to Harry's mother.


End file.
